Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2017
Pardon me while I put down my wings
scorched by contact with the sun
fortune smiled to pardon sin
now I’m estranged from the sky
they no longer function as designed
artifact of my father’s hands
pressed to service in storied past
now a memory in the labyrinth.

A life was spent amongst the clouds
vanished before by jaded eyes
backdrop assumed as I flew
now far above my fallen state
within the reach of my hands
that forevermore too short-lived
stands eternal above the earth
while I scuttle so far below.

You may ask what was my sin
flying too high for my good
I’d only nod in reticence
implore the query to search my mind
the highs and lows sought me out
best to worse of humankind
with the middle a safe retreat
no longer wanted as I soared.

I dodged depths of water’s grave
instead I turned to the heat
now I’m in the island maze
wandering from discarded wings
returning now to the end
the Minotaur will soon be fed
if only I could rise to glide
take safe flight above the ground.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171104.
The poem “Discarded Wings” borrows from the myth of Icarus, the boy who flew too close to the Sun.
poetryaccident
Written by
poetryaccident  54/M/Pickens SC
(54/M/Pickens SC)   
122
   Ya-------Na
Please log in to view and add comments on poems